A Transatlantic Correspondence
by Where'n'why
Summary: Hyacinth makes a journey to America to visit her new found pen pal Marie Barone. Elizabeth also makes the journey to meet her buddy Debra Barone. Richard and Emmet are dragged along. Please write a review. Tell me how I'm doing.
1. Hyacinth Has an Idea

A Transatlantic Flower

"Richard," Hyacinth yelled frightening her husband Richard lying beside her in the dark.

"Huh, what is it? Are we being robbed" Richard was startled, it was 1 AM and Hyacinth had awoken him from his slumber. Whatever made Hyacinth coax him out of his sleep must have been imperative. He was waiting for Hyacinth to reply but all she did was beam, it looked as if she may jump from the bed she is so excited Was Hyacinth actually… delighted. The look of concern on his face turned to one of anxiety. Hyacinth was up to something. He didn't know what but it looked devious. "Couldn't this have waited until the morning," he thought. For at this point Hyacinth, by her lack of seriousness, had assured him that whatever the problem was, it caused bore no risk to life or limb. He was not a man quick to anger, in fact he was most probably one of the most long-suffering men in all of England, all of Europe, but waking him up at ridiculous hours was beyond his patience.

" Hyacinth, what is the matter? Are you alright?"

Again another pause. Hyacinth had not seemed to move since Richard was so abruptly awakened. The stillness of the room was making Richard very concerned. So much so that Richard's face was contorted into a pensive grimace. Richard has found himself in a number of pained expressions as a result of his wife. Said stillness and silence was interrupted by the faint sound of drizzle drops hitting the window.

"Richard," she replied, "I just had a thought."

"That's a human custom. I hope it was a pure thought."

"It most certainly is a pure, Christian thought. Richard, no inner-city humor with me especially with the vicarage being only a mile down the road," Hyacinth berated him.

"I'm sorry what were you thinking about dear." Richard whispered, defeated.

"What if I started a Transatlantic Correspondence." Hyacinth said proudly.

"A what?"

"A Transatlantic Correspondence, you know, to write to an American. They speak English I'm sure." She looked to Richard who nodded that that was an affirmative. I could find someone to write to, yes, and Elizabeth too. She always talked about wanting a pen pal . What do you think Richard."

He had scarcely had time to open his mouth.

"Yes, I thought you would agree with me. I shall write a note to myself so that I do not forget it in the morning." Hyacinth now switched on her bedside lamp which blinded Richard. "How he wish he could go back to sleep. How wonderful. I'll show that Jane Parker down the road who is truly extravagant."

"IS that what this is about, Hyacinth?" Richard exclaimed, flabbergasted. I've told you time and time again that she is only staying with her cousin for a little while. Then she is going right back to Blackburn. There's no need to be jealous, you are better in every way."

"I am not jealous of her, I am jealous of no one Richard Bouquet. You're right, she isn't a challenge to me," the flower-named woman replied. "Well Richard I am going back to sleep now, I do not know why you would have woken me up at such a strange hour. Goodnight dear."

* * *

><p>The next day (or really later that morning) dawned. As was the usual in England the day started gray and temperature was in that straddling place where a jacket was not necessary but still a viable option. It was April and everyone knew the saying about that month's weather. Morning had passed without incident. The early drizzly stopped and turned into a dayspring with a partly cloudy sky. Elizabeth and Emmet had woken up in their respective had done their morning routines just like any other day. They were both sitting at the table eating the eggs Elizabeth had just scrambled.<p>

"You know Lizzy, Hyacinth hasn't sung at me in weeks. I think the woman is finally coming around. Emmet started.

"Well after you played that recording you had of her singing Greensleeves, I think that got through to her." Elizabeth snickered.

It was true after Hyacinth heard her rendition of the folk song she stopped singing altogether, with the exception of Church. "Surely God doesn't mind my strong voice. He made it especially for me."She said.

Now that you're free from Hyacinth's singing I've been the one stuck with her more often. I love her dearly but she can be very …" Elizabeth hesitated for the right word. She opened her mouth a couple of times just to shut it again. Ii took her nearly a full minute to consider the correct word or phrase to describe her best friend. She thought of one "... intense."

"I know big sis, but stick it out and you might just outlive her." He chuckled faux maniacal.

She opened her mouth to speak when the telephone rang.

They both tensed momentarily

"Oh Liz, I'm in such a good mood, I'll answer it for you"

"Thank you, Lord" she whispered to herself.

Emmett rose out of the wooden chair with the wicker backing and walked the five steps to the black telephone Elizabeth had in the corridor. This telephone, too, could redial the number at one-touch facility.

Emmett picked up the receiver. "Hello"

Hyacinth was at the other end of the line " Oh hello Emmett"

" Oh Hell," Emmett whispered. After hearing the shrill lady who had place the call he chided himself for ever rising from his seat.

" What was that dear," Hyacinth inquired, genuinely concerned.

" It was nothing, must be a fault on the line," after months of being her neighbor, he lied to Hyacinth Bouquet effortlessly now.

"Yes, Elizabeth must get rid of that boxy black telephone with no enhancements and get one like mine." Emmett sighed quietly,but she continued. " I'm glad you answered dear because I would like to have coffee with the both of you. I came up with a constructive idea this morning that Richard loved, and I think that your sister and yourself would love it too. My goodness I believe I just said a run-on sentence. Anyway see you at 10:30 dear and bring some pens and paper."

"Why?"

Hyacinth had already hung up.

Emmett walked back to the table to Elizabeth who had not eaten a thing sing the telephone rang. "What do we have to do," she asked

"The Hell if I know"

* * *

><p>At 10:30 sharp Elizabeth rang Hyacinth's doorbell. Emmett stood behind her with a couple dozen sheets of lined paper and four pens. As the chimes reverberated throughout the Bucket ( you would pronounce that Bouquet if you valued your mental health) residence Hyacinth's low heeled shoes could be heard making a rhythmic tapping as the lady approached the door to her dwelling. She opened the door wide. Elizabeth entered first.<p>

"Ah, Elizabeth, fifteen seconds early, you didn't make it in charm school did you." The Bucket woman then let Emmet in. "You see Emmett right on time like a gentleman. You should teach you sister a few lessons in manners."

Needless to say, Elizabeth did not take kindly to that insult. She swallowed her hurt feelings and walked to the kitchen and approached the ornately decorated table. Richard was sitting at the table reading the newspaper.

"Good Morning Richard." She said.

"Hello, Liz," He replied, looking up and setting his paper down.

Elizabeth had always pitied Richard. She admired the way he bore Hyacinth and still love her dearly. Elizabeth always wondered if he ever pondered divorcing Hyacinth. It's a wicked though but a justified thought at that.

Hyacinth burst into the room with Emmet following closely behind.

"Sit down dears," Hyacinth said. Just as Elizabeth was lowering herself into the seat, Hyacinth bellowed. " Not there Elizabeth _I _like to face the window."

Elizabeth got up, sat down in a new chair , and placed her bag down. Coffee and biscuits were served.

After a few moments of silence Hyacinth spoke. Spoke is a very pleasant interpretation, it was more like she lectured the three other adults like children "Early this morning I thought of a splendid idea? Does anyone know what it is?"

Silence

"I thought that we should try to have a Transatlantic Correspondence with some Americans"

Richard looked indifferent. Emmet looked as if someone was stabbing him with a sword and Elizabeth looked puzzled.

" I think that we should get to know some people who are not from here. And show that Parker woman how international we can be.I looked up good pen pal firm. Imperial Courier is going to carry our letters for us across the ocean.

Elizabeth interjected, " I think this is a splendid idea. That explains the Pens and paper."

"Yes I even got two people for us to write to when I called." Hyacinth then got up and went to the counter and got the piece of paper. "I am going to be writing a woman named Marie Barone."

Elizabeth kept her eyes focused on Hyacinth and listened.

Hyacinth continued "She's an Italian American woman. She lives in Lynbrook New York. Apparently that is not too far from New York City. Elizabeth you can write a lady named Debra Barone, the daughter-in-law to Marie is that alright Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was ecstatic "Of course that;s alright with me, I think I'll start on that letter at home"

For the first time in a long time Elizabeth left Hyacinth's house happy.


	2. Meanwhile In America

Debra Barone was folding the laundry on her sofa when there was a knock at the door. All three of her children were sitting watching a program teaching them about the alphabet. Michael sat to Debra's right and Geoffrey sat to her left. Ally was laid out on the floor as if she was making snow angels. Before Debra got up from the couch to let the visitor in, the doorknob turned and Marie Barone, her mother-in-law, stepped into the house. Marie was a mink long coat with a matching hat. Despite it being April, the northeast was still going through a long and tenacious winter. The flurries falling outside were starting to turn into heavier snow. Under her coat, Marie was wearing a dress with a blue flower print. Blue periwinkles. The print was new to Debra and she thought it made the old woman look even older. Debra always thought of Marie as a person who dressed well, but never had she seen Marie in something so antique-ish. Marie was holding in her hands a plate of chocolate chip cookies covered in saran wrap. That covering was it self covered in snowflakes. Marie made sure to close the door behind her to prevent any of the frigid air from entering the home. The door shut with a slam after the draft caught it.

"Grandma," all three children shouted simultaneously.

"Hello, my dears. Go sit in the kitchen and Grandma will give you some cookies." All three siblings ran swiftly into the kitchen. On her way in Ally grabbed milk out of the refrigerator. Marie smiled as she looked at Debra. "I have some good news for us Debra," said she as she removed her hat. "I think we will have international friends now." Marie turned around to put her coat on the hook adjacent to the door.

"International Friends," Debra was puzzled as she walked into the kitchen.

Marie was right behind her, plate in hand. "Yes, don't you remember, the whole write to England thing on PBS."

"Oh, yeah, I remember that. I didn't know you signed us up for it." Debra nodded in affirmation as she went to the cupboard to grab some glasses for the milk and some saucers for the cookies. She noticed the condensation forming on the milk bottle, and how antsy the kids were, and sped up her distribution of the glasses.

"Anyway, I got a call from the agency and we each have a person to write to. My person is-" She reached into the dress' pocket and retrieved a note, "Hyacinth Bucket of Fuddleton, England."

"Mommy how far is England?" Ally asked

"It's about three thousand miles away, honey," Debra replied

"Oh… Mommy how long is a mile?"

"That's about from here to school."

"Oh… is it in America."

"No sweetie it's a totally different country, but they speak English just like us. That country has a Queen and a leader like the president here called the Prime Minister. The whole country is like an island." Debra explained this patiently hoping to satisfy all of her child's questions.

"Like Manhattan?" inquired the six-year-old girl.

"No it is a lot bigger. And it rains a lot a too—"

"Hey there Jambalaya," Raymond said as he entered his dwelling.

"Daddy," Ally screamed with glee.

Raymond squatted to come down to here eye-level. "Hello little Miss Muffet, how was your day? Did you save daddy any cookies?" She nodded yes and he smiled at that. He loved how his daughter was still in her "cute stage". Rising back to his feet he turned to his mother "Hey Ma, what brings you over?"

"Good News Raymond. Your wife and I have English pen pals. Hyacinth Bucket and, - oh Debra your person is Elizabeth Warden. She is Hyacinth's neighbor and best friend."

Machiavellian."

"That'll be very nice for you Debra," Raymond said sincerely. "I would love for you to have someone to talk or – I guess write to somebody and become friends. I think that you would learn a lot from this."

"Do you really mean that, Ray," Debra said with tears welling up in her eyes.

"Of course, I do."

* * *

><p>Later that day, Marie had gone home to make dinner for Frank, after the kids had gone to sleep, Raymond was lying in bed with his wife. It had stopped snowing about an hour ago. One thing that was still dropping was the temperature. Raymond snuggled up next to his wife. She was in a good mood but she was very tired after the day she had. She was happy that Marie had done such a wonderful thing for her. She was happy that Ray had supported her. She was happy the kids went to bed without incident. She was happy that her day had turned out so well. Debra felt a hand caress her thigh.<p>

She was not that happy.

"Not tonight, Ray. I'm too worried about Marie, I really hope she doesn't scare Hyacinth away with her condescending disposition. I mean I love her, she's my family, but she can be… intense, overwhelming, manipulative, divisive, derisive, deterring, oppressive, judgmental, hell I'd even say

"Please, let's not think about her tonight. We're both here. We're both ready. I only need three minutes and the rest of the night is yours. I'll be gentle with my lady."

"No, I'm tired Ray, tomorrow"

"After what I said, I thought that you would be appreciative."

Debra saw red.

"What? Raymond is that why you said what you said… to get me to have sex with you. You're a pig. It is like that is you _raison d'etre _to get me to have sex with you. Were you really going to use this whole pen pal thing to get me to _do_ you," she yelled in a huff.

Flustered, Ray replied, " No I didn't use that to get into you pants…" She scoffed " I just thought that of I supported you, you would help me. And for your information I can speak French too, _Mademoiselle Sacre Bleu_."

They both huffed and turned away from each other.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, at the other Barone house, Marie is climbing into bed. Her face scarcely shows her elation with her new found friends abroad. Frank is sitting on his side of the bed finishing the crossword puzzle. A sigh got Frank to pay attention to Marie. No matter how crass he seemed sometimes. He had a soft spot for his wife and his family. He may not have been an extraordinarily demonstrative guy but he loved his family to death. When he saw his wife's face all he could do was wonder as to why she looked so pensive. What had he done? What had he said to offend her? He needed to find out. While her husband was pondering whether or not he had upset her, Marie was still thinking, dreading, one nagging thing.<p>

She only had one concern.

"I hope that Debra doesn't make a mess of this thing. I mean she is shrill, moody, insubordinate, proud, stubborn, prissy, and disrespectful."

"Holy Crap! I thought you mad at me with that scary face of yours scowling over there. She's all those things to you. That's why I love her so much. Marie she is probably one of the most stable broads I've ever met. You need to try to get along with her. Ray got a good one."

"Maybe good for you, I love her, I really do, but she needs to learn that I am Raymond's mother. No one messes with a mother."

Frank scoffed, "That's a grown man."

"That is my son, my only son. Well him and Robert..."

They did not know that Robert was passing on the other side of the wall going to the linen closet to get a towel for his 10:23 shower (don't ask why 10:23). Robert heard that statement and touched the blue towel to his chin 16 times (again don't ask why). He sighed and continued about his business.

"… Maybe Hyacinth will agree with me that I am still his mother and his wife ought to respect me," she bellowed.

"Goodnight Marie," said Frank sternly.

"Goodnight Frank, this argument is not over," Marie said almost playfully.

* * *

><p>Little did the American couples know that 3,000 miles away, Hyacinth and Elizabeth's letters sat on Hyacinth's table waiting to be taken to the post office. Hyacinth had written her letter to Marie and Elizabeth had written her letter to Debra. Both letters were proofread and spell-checked. Both letters had a photo attached of their respective writers. Said writers were very pleased with themselves. The letters were then placed in a certified box to be shipped across the ocean Both of them were fast asleep because sunrise was only two hours away.<p>

At 10:30 AM the two ladies would get into Elizabeth's car. Elizabeth pulled over and parked her car. She wanted to go in with Hyacinth to put all the postage on the box. Once all the stamps were placed on the box and the package was approved, it was whisked away and disappeared into the back of the post office.

Soon the package would be on a new continent.


	3. Private Reading

So here's chapter 3 an she's a long one. Please review.

"Debra. Debra, are you home," Marie was shouting gleefully from the door. She was knocking violently. She had stopped ringing the doorbell long ago. Marie always thought that her son and daughter-in-law's doorbell was never sufficient. After about thirty seconds and a couple thirty mile-per-hour wind gusts, Marie's disposition changed from one of happy delight to simmering anger. To be fair, Debra was upstairs putting Debra had to pay for her impertinence and sloth. So here she was standing outside the Barone House with a box in hand, shivering because the weather was still quite wintry. "Come on, Debra open before I freeze to death," she whispered to herself.

Debra, having arrived at the door, heard Marie's despair and thought, "_Don't you give me any ideas, lady. I might just let that happen."_

Then Marie heard the tumblers of the lock turning. Debra peeked her head out of the door to the house and saw her mother-in-law standing shaking lake an autumn leaf.

"Marie, come on in, it must be really crazy out there,"

"Thanks Debra, my goodness this winter will not quit. But enough complaining Debra."

That was met with awkward, pregnant silence. Debra always wondered whether or not Marie reveled in making the people around her uncomfortable. She looked Debra up and down or checked her out so to speak (or write). Debra was not dressed immodestly, but her clothes were a little tighter than usual.

"I hope you're not parading in front of the children like that." Marie gasped with false shock.

"The only reason the clothes look like this is because your son washed them. I have to buy a new pair of jeans anyway. Thank you for your overwhelming concern about my decency toward my children, Marie. It was really refreshing." Debra retorted bitterly.

"You're quite welcome. Anyway," Marie continued, "Look at what's arrived."

Marie, the elderly woman, mother of two, and grandmother of three, who had by now taken a very comfortable, warm, and quite frankly well deserved seat on the really comfortable sofa, had in her manicured hands a small, rectangular, cardboard parcel covered in many postage stamps from both countries, bound with white twine with golden thread woven in of a superior quality. (Sixty-two word sentence because I felt like it )

"Wow, isn't that a fancy package," Debra said with genuine surprise. _I might have another Marie on my hands._ She thought after considering that matter further. She had been coping with what she had coined 'Hurricane Marie' for nearly a decade, but the very idea of having a doppelganger of said storm made her anxious. She breathlessly, inwardly implored the mercy of her Savior. She snapped backed into reality after realizing her mother-in-law's mouth was in motion.

"Yes it is. It's so pretty I don't even want to open it. We have to, I guess." Marie took pains to open the intricate package. She succeeded in not tearing the package, a small victory for the day. For such an ornate box, the envelopes enclosed therein were very plain. On top of each envelope there was, paper clipped, a small index card with a survey on it. Under that there was a piece of wonderfully ornate cloth that was well-stitched and folded neatly.

"Ooh, isn't this cute Debra."

When Marie lifted Hyacinth's envelope towards her face she smelled a cloying lavender perfume. Knowing Marie, she most probably enjoyed the overpowering floral aroma.

It made Debra cough a little.

"You take the one from Elizabeth, dear," Marie said handing both card and envelope over. That one only smelled like crisp paper.

"You know what, Marie let's go sit in the kitchen at the table. There is much better light in there. I'll make some cocoa for us."

"I had better make that for you. We don't need the house burning down, now do we Debra." That was met with indifferent silence. Debra was very used to her culinary skills (or lack thereof) being criticized. Debra had conceded that she was not the best cook long ago. Sensing that she had not affected Debra at all, Marie continued, "You're right, this room always had a dingy, back alley sort of vibe," Marie retorted in her passive-aggressive Marie-ish way. Marie felt the tension in the room and thought, _"That's what happens when you leave Marie in the bitter cold, little Debra." _

Marie, who had by now risen from the couch, and had left her impression in said furniture, waddled into the kitchen being pierced by the lasers from Debra's eyes. If only looks could kill.

* * *

><p>The card for Hyacinth is as follows:<p>

**Name:**

Hyacinth Bucket nee Flowers

**Address:**

12 Rich Avenue, Fuddleton, West Midlands, B1 7TF, United Kingdom

**Age**:

Fifty-five

**Marital Status:**

Married for 40 years to my husband Richard.

**Siblings:**

I am the eldest. From oldest to youngest Violet, Daisy, and Rose.

**Children:**

My one son. My pride and joy. Sheridan.

**Religion:**

Anglican

**Why I chose to write:**

I chose to write so that I, with much greater facility, can convey my thoughts and ideals with a pen friend overseas. This programme will be completely conducive to connect with coexisting cultures of common constructive creativity. I would love to get to know an American. With common language and history, I can become a worldlier, more wonderful, well-versed woman.

* * *

><p>The card for Elizabeth is as follows:<p>

**Name:**

Elizabeth Warden nee Hawksworth

**Address:**

14Rich Avenue, Fuddleton, West Midlands, B1 7TF, United Kingdom

**Age:**

Fifty-four

**Marital Status:**

I have been married to John for about thirty-seven years.

**Siblings:**

I have one little brother Emmet. He has been living with me after his divorce**.**

**Children:**

Gail

**Religion:**

Anglican

**Why I chose to write:**

To be honest, I am tired of the tedium of being stuck at home all day. I was yearning for something different, something fulfilling. I figured that this was an excellent way to try something new without stepping out of my comfort zone. Quite frankly, my neighbor surprised me with the idea. And what a happy surprise this was.

* * *

><p>"Well, Elizabeth seems pretty reasonable to me," Debra declared contentedly, placing the index card on the dining room table.<p>

"As for Hyacinth, she seems like quite the lady just looking at this survey. She sure did sound like a real intellectual."

"I'm glad we both found people we would like to actually talk to. I mean I love you and all…"

"It is perfectly alright dear. Change is good."

* * *

><p><em>Dear Marie Barone,<em>

_My name is Hyacinth Bucket and I am very interested to get to know you. As that may take a while yet, I'll introduce myself to you. Before I really begin, I need to tell you that my last name is not pronounced 'bucket'. It is pronounced 'bouquet'. I do not know why that is. I suppose that is just one of life's wondrous mysteries. It is just that my husband's family in the distant past were Huguenots, or of some other French tribe. You must know now that there are not any French matters in my house. There are no continental conditions in my house. I don't allow that. I would never allow that._

_My husband, Richard, is truly a good man. He was a good provider, an excellent father, and a proficiently possesses a plethora of other good qualities. I am glad he is mine. He was, until they forced him to take early retirement, an asset to our municipal government. He was such a valued member of the staff that His Worship wept when dear Richard left his position. My only problem with Richard is that sometimes he becomes really bossy. Periodically, he thinks he knows better than I. I still love him dearly. He is my soul mate. We are bound for eternity._

_Together, Richard and I, have one son, Sheridan. He is all my sunshine and __splendour. He is all our pride. He is now at University in Torquay in Devon taking a creative course in advanced needlework. He took after his mother in being so very creative. His roommate, Tarquin, and he are such a splendid duo. I sent you a piece of patchwork in the parcel__. They seem to work so well together, I am overjoyed that my son has found such a profoundly powerful influence to help him with his studies. He has always stuck to the principles I set. I am glad he has not lost himself in the clutches of a female. How they so distract the men._

_I have three sisters. Their names are Violet, Daisy, and Rose. Violet is married to a turf accountant. Her husband, Bruce, is such a gentlemanly sort of fellow. He has the best etiquette. Aforementioned manners have allowed him to excel financially as well. Violet is now so well to do that she has a Mercedes, sauna, and room for a pony. Her property is quite large._

_Daisy is just like her namesake. She is happy and full of life. I do not understand how she so absolutely cheery when she is married to Onslow. Onslow is a work shy man who is very bright, but does very little to help my poor sister. She, even in that predicament, keeps a positively peachy demeanor all day. My sister Rose lives with them. She is a free spirit. Rose is a lovely lady who has struck out with men, but continues to try. Tenacity is something I learned from her. My dearest Daddy lives with the three of them. He was such a gentle and kind man during my youth. He loved all of us equally and unconditionally. He had to take up more work when my mother died. I was ten, Violet was eight, Daisy was seven and Rose was five. And now, such a great, great mind is lost to senility. _

_That covers my family. Let's talk about my friends._

_My best friend is my next door neighbor, Elizabeth. She is a lovely lady, maybe a tad boring. It is a small wonder her husband has stayed in Saudi Arabia this long. I often ponder if the marriage is a happy one. She is very pleasant and helpful. She helps down at the church so often. It is as if her life revolves around me. I find it rather nice for someone to have to depend on me. Her only problem is her clumsiness. Every time she comes for coffee at 10:30 she shakes like a leaf. I have ruled out caffeine as the cause because I have started serving her decaffeinated coffee. She has broken two of my Royal Doulton cups. I have even provided her a sippy cup so that she can drink her beverage more easily. That did not work either._

_Her brother, Emmet lives with her. He moved in after he divorced his wife. He is a gifted man, a musician. He plays the piano so well. He is better than I at it. His prowess must have bestowed him with steady hands. He has never spilled a drink in my home of his own fault. I think that he is still recovering from his divorce. It seems that he has a crush on me. Every time, I come near to him he scurries like a frightened squirrel. It is a rather cute thing to see. Apparently, I have a very powerful effect on men. The Major, the commodore, and Emmet all seem to be very attracted to me._

_Another person I fell I can call friend is the vicar. Michael the vicar is a staple of this community. He is also a very good preacher. He really gets the true message of Christ across to all of the parishioners. Last week, he preached a message about loving thy neighbor. He taught me that I was already living that part of the Gospel. I already loved my neighbors. His wife is also lovely. She is a pretty woman who always seems to catch the vicar in the worst possible positions. In all of the incidents he seems to be innocent. Her insecurity always seems to become prominent whenever he is in the presence of other women. Most of the congregation is made of woman so she will have to swallow that soon._

_I have said much about others, but now let me tell you about myself. My favourite colour is Angel Gabriel Blue. My favourite food is caviar. My favorite television show is Hetty Wainthropp Investigates. My favourite flower is ,of course, the hyacinth. My favorite book was _Pollyanna. _My favourite piece of music is Greensleeves by Henry VIII for Anne Boleyn. My favourite musician would have to be William Byrd, the master of English Renaissance Music. _

_That is all I have to say for now. Please write me back as soon as possible._

_Sincerely,_

_Hyacinth Bucket_

* * *

><p><em>Dear Debra,<em>

_I am Elizabeth Warden, and I am so glad I have this opportunity. When my friend and neighbor, Hyacinth, suggested that we both get pen friends, I must admit that I was at first hesitant. After I thought about it, I __realised__ that I should try it._

_Before I talk about Hyacinth let me tell you about my husband. I met him in secondary school. He is the most gentle, well-meaning men on the planet. He was always goal-oriented. He said way back in school that he wanted to live a comfortable life. He always said he wanted to be a good provider like his father and his grandfather before him. John works abroad all the time. He works for Wellington Oil. He is the chief inspector of the oilfields in Saudi Arabia. He bounces back between Dubai, London, and home. As of when I wrote this he was in New York on business. I do wish I could see him more. I have a big allowance from him. I have a nice house. But I wish I had more of him._

_I do have a bit of him through our daughter, Gail. She is twenty-three years old and living at her university. She is studying French and wants to become a French teacher, She currently lives with her boyfriend Harold. He's a lovely chap. They seem great for each other. You can tell that the both care for each other genuinely._

_Let me tell you about Hyacinth. I love her. She is my neighbour and my only friend. I used to have other friends ,but Hyacinth has a way of forcing others out of your life. She was only a neughbour. She was only a woman I met when she moved in, but it turned to more than that. I remember it vividly. It was 1966 and the house next to mine had just been sold, I had by that time lived in this house for three years. My husband, John, and I had been together for about five years and we had moved there after we were married. _

_She was a nice woman at first. She beguiled me. I recall it when she knocked on the door. She said hello. _

"_My name is Hyacinth 'Bouquet' (really Bucket) and my husband and I have just moved to the house next door."_

_She was young, attractive woman then. Her hair was a red blaze of youth which has since mellowed into a light brown. Anyway, the she was proud then. When I say proud, I say that it was a good pride, earnest pride. _

"_My husband works in city hall for His Worship. I expect that we should be good friends. You look like gentry to me. You have the features. Might have some Plantagenet in you."_

_I was shocked. I was bothered._

_She was right. My ancestry was of landed gentry and I was a very, very distant relative of that old family. It was not a point of discussion. That doesn't mean anything to me. Never has, never will. _

" _Anyway," she continued "Since the house is almost in order, why don't you come over and meet my husband tomorrow at eight over coffee… better yet over breakfast. It would be very nice to meet my new neighbours. _

_It was my turn to speak, "so long as my Johnny can come, I don't see why not."_

_The next morning we went and had a wonderful breakfast and met dear Richard. He was pleasant. He was a handsome young man full of vitality and energy. He was reasonable level-headed and very happy. The two of them had the lion's share of happiness. Now the opposite is true for Richard. He is now a hen pecked man who shies away from even the most innocent exchanges with Hyacinth. There was only one time the old Richard appeared and told Hyacinth to shut up. That was courageous!_

_At least Richard has found a friend in my brother Emmet. My brother moved in a few months ago after he divorced his wife. The divorce was too messy to talk about. Anyway, since he moved in he has gotten prison pallor from being cooped up all day. When he does venture out for whatever, he will stop by and see if Richard is still sane. After confirming this, he will go about his business. Sometimes he will invite Richard to a pub and they would come home Emmet flushed and Richard stammering. I guess they deserve it._

_I'm sorry thus letter seems so morose and if you do not want to write me back I understand. But please understand me, I needed to let all of this out. I needed someone to tell this to. I needed to let someone, anyone else know. Please write me back it would mean so much._

_Your Friend,_

_Elizabeth Warden_

_P.S. Could you send me some Hershey's chocolate if you write back. We get it in the U.K. but it is very expensive because it is imported. My brother and I love it. If you send it, I'll pop a few pounds in the next package or tell me something you want and I'll send it to you._

* * *

><p>Debra was left astounded by the letter. She saw the parallels and the differences in experiences.<p>

"I've got to write this poor woman back."

She got a pen and a sheet of loose-leaf and started her letter.

* * *

><p>How was that? Tell me!<p> 


	4. Replies

"Welcome to The Weakest Link," was what came from the television in the Buckets' television set. Richard was sitting on his settee watching his set intently. Richard was not always into quiz shows, but something about Anne Robinson was alluring to him. He mused that she reminded him of the way he used to be. Not so nasty, of course, but just as honest and free. It's not like he chose to be the way he is now. When he met Hyacinth, he was in charge. When he got married to her it was his choice. But now, a few decades, and an adult son later, Richard was a docile creature. A creature by whose creation, his or Hyacinth's, he did not wish to fathom.

"Let's meet the team," snapped Richard out of hi thoughts and refocus his attention to the screen.

A somewhat tall woman with a cane, and wavy hair was first. "Diana, retired photojournalist, from Bournemouth." The camera panned over. A woman who Richard could swear was Hyacinth's doppelganger. "Hetty, private detective, from Blackburn."

Hyacinth suddenly and rather violently entered the living room. Richard was certain his heart skipped a beat. He hoped that his flinch was not too noticeable. Hyacinth for her part did not notice it. She didn't notice her husband most of the time. " Richard, I've gotten a reply."

"What, who from?" He regretted the informal grammar the second it was beyond his lips. He covered them as if he was a child who said a curse word.

"How many times must I repeat this, Richard? One never ends a sentence in a preposition. The correct way to say that is "_from whom,_" she said airily. "Remember Richard, we speak the Queen's English. She would have the right to excommunicate us from the Anglican Communion. Remember 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God'. So don't you go ruining our most glorious language, our most civilised tongue with lower-class slang, Mr. Bouquet. It is an insult to the Queen and an insult to the Lord Jesus" Richard for his part, was indeed flabbergasted at the chiding her just received. There his wife was, red about the face about a simple error in his grammar. He had by the end of that tirade sunken deeply into the couch. What perplexed him most was the biblical reference. He admitted he was not the most religious guy. He admitted that he had had struggles with faith (how could you blame him), but incorporating the Gospel according to John into a mad rant about a trivial mistake made him think 'surely there's a Satan'.

I've received a reply from Marie in _America," _shouting the countries name to make sure Mrs. Barker-Finch could hear it. Hyacinth had forgotten that the Barker-Finches were in the south of France. They went for what they called de-Hyacinthication. Oh, how many words were produced for the Bucket Woman.

Hyacinth held out a box. Said box was white with the edges frayed to a dirty gray from the shipping. The corrugated cardboard had several stamps on the top labeled USPS It had Marie's address on it written in cursive, written so well , Hyacinth was inwardly impressed.

She opened it. Delicately. She removed the tape inch by inch, careful not to damage the delicious penwomanship.

She succeeded.

There were several objects in the box a letter, newspaper clippings and a piece of embroidery.

_Dear Hyacinth,_

_I was so very delighted when I received your letter. You write so well. I mean that in a twofold way. Your penmanship was so neat. That's something we rarely see this side of the ocean. The other way that letter was wonderful was in the grammar. Over on this side of the pond, we have neglected the richness and complexity of our tongue. If only you heard the way some of the children speak over here._

_Anyway, let me talk about something else, my family. _

_My husband Frank is the love of my life. He's been with me through thick and thin. He's a bit uncouth at times, but he's really a lovely man._

_My first-born son Robert is a police officer in the New York City Police department._

_My second son Raymond is all my joy. He is a successful sports columnist in Newsday, a very well circulated newspaper. His writing is like poetry. He is probably one of the most proficient writers in the language. I list my favorite writers Hemingway, Shakespeare, Barone. I could go on and on about the illustrious awards he's won. Enclosed there are several of his best or most important writings. Reading his sweet muse and prose will put so enrapture you. You emotions will remain in a world apart while your world will be released from captivity. My dear Raymond's work rivals the greats and will remain the bar for this new Century. _

_He married a woman named Debra._

_As for me, I'm just a good Catholic woman who loves her family._

_Yours truly,_

_Marie_

Hyacinth was inn awe of the letter she received.

"Richard!"

"Yes," dejectedly.

"I do not like that tone."

"Sorry," fake upbeat.

"She writes well. Her son does too. He writes in newspaper and, he is very good."

"Good."

"Speak in sentences Richard. We do not want Barker-Finches or the Winslows to think you are an illiterate."

Silence

In Elizabeth's house, Elizabeth was sitting on her recliner reading the newspaper. She had only gotten in from town. It was an unusual sight, as it was early evening. The sun was set. A pile of mail was there, beside her on the corner table. Emmet had left all the envelopes and a small package on the desk. Elizabeth, in her tiredness, had disregarded the mail on the table.

She was exhausted; she had gotten in from the supermarket, the chemist, the post office, the book store, and the department store. She had done her food shopping, bought toothpaste from the chemist, purchased some stamps, bought some tawdry, generic love story of a man falling in love with a woman on a beach, and bought a new hat. She had stopped home to drop of the groceries and the toothpaste and went back out, not having eaten lunch. She was so exhausted she forgot her hunger.

She continued to read the periodical. As she read, the flush of fatigue had faded and her attention turned to her abdomen. She stopped in the middle of the article she was reading. "Did my American goodies arrive?" She stood and walked to the table. They did arrive.

She tore open the box. She saw two large bars of Hershey's chocolate and a letter with neat penwomanship.

_Dear Elizabeth,_

_ I must admit that when I first started this program, I was skeptical. What would I have in common with a stranger? But after reading your letter, I see that you're not so different from me. I know that these letters are not supposed to go into strong detail from the beginning. I'll just say it my mother-in-law is just like your friend. She is intrusive and bothersome. If I had given her the letter to mail for me, she would have read it and possible redacted these lines. I try my best to fight back, to get the upper hand, but she has this whole family in a vice. A vice that hold all the people in orbit of her. Maybe it's a good thing we found each other. I'm sorry that this letter is so brief, between my three young kids and my husband, I seldom have the time to write, but you can call me at _-_-_._

_ Sincerely Debra._

Elizabeth was happy. She found someone who understood. Now, she had a phone call to make.


End file.
